Sweetness Follows
by Malana
Summary: Part of REM Song Title Series. X-over with West Wing. Sequel to Bittersweet Me.


Title: "Sweetness Follows"

Series: R.E.M. title series

X-over with West Wing

Pairing: Willow/Will.

Disclaimer: The character's aren't mine. Willow is Whedon's and Will belongs to the amazing Sorkin. 

Distribution: Please, take it. Just let me know.

Rating: PG-13

Spoilers: Current for TWW. Post season six for Buffy.

A/N: Hey, it's not angst!

Bittersweet Me can be found at my website: 

Will sat at his desk working on the President's next speech. He jumped a little when his cell phone began to ring.

"Will Bailey."

"Hi, Will. Um...this Willow, Willow Rosenberg from the bar the other night."

Silence.

"Oh, god." Willow groaned. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have called. I mean, you were drunk when you gave me your number. I'm so sorry...."

"Oh, no." Will quickly spoke up. "I'm sorry. I was just surprised. I was hoping you'd call, but I didn't really think you would."

"Great!" Will could hear the excitement in the women's voice. "I thought I had just made a huge fool of myself."

Will smiled. "No, not at all. Hey, would you like to go to dinner tonight?"

"I'd love to."

"Great. How about 7:30? There's this great place called Harold's. It's actually right next door to the bar where we met."

"That sounds wonderful." Willow responded.

"All right. I'd love to chat longer, but I actually have a lot of work to do."

"Of course. I'll see you tonight."

Willow hung up the phone and proceeded to dance around her hotel room. Will had been really cute, and very sweet. It had taken a lot for Willow to get up the courage to actually call him, but she was glad he did.

Willow ordered room service and sat down on the bed, picking up the morning newspaper. She glanced at the picture on the front page, blinked, and stared at it again. There he was, one the front page of the paper: Will Bailey. The President's new Deputy Communications Director. She quickly scanned the article. Apparently he had just been hired a few days ago. Wow. She had a date with someone who worked at the White House. Wow.

7:30-Harold's Restaurant

"I'm sorry I'm late." Will smiled sheepishly as he slid into the seat across from Willow. "Work just ran a little late."

Willow smiled. "It's fine, really. I imagine life at the White House is rather hectic."

"So, you know who I am, huh?"

"Oh, yes." Willow said, grinning. "I figured out your deep, dark secret."

Will laughed. "You look wonderful, by the way." She did too. She was wearing simple black pants, and a rich blue silk shirt. Her red hair was swept off her face with sapphire clips. She wasn't wearing much make-up, just a touch of eye shadow and lipstick.

Willow blushed and it made Will's heart beat faster. God, she was beautiful.

"So, working at the White House must be quite exciting." God, Will was cute. His boyish grin gave her thoughts that she hadn't had in a long time, especially not for a man. She couldn't really explain what had compelled her to call him, but he had made her feel comfortable. Sure, she may have been drunk when they met, but she had to know if there might be something more possible.

"I'm still getting used to working in the West Wing, actually. As I told you when I was more than a little tipsy, I still feel really out of place. But I think it's going to get better." Will sighed, "At least, I hope it will get better."

Willow touched his hand reassuringly. "I'm sure it will"

"How about you? What do you do?"

Willow looked down at the table, slightly ashamed. "Well, I have plans to go back to college. I was going steadily before, but things happened..." she trailed off.

Will felt bad for making the girl uncomfortable, but he wanted to know about her, wanted to be able to comfort her. "I don't want to pry, but the other night you mentioned something about rehab?"

Willow nodded. "Yeah. It wasn't really rehab." Willow struggled to find away to explain without revealing too much about her past. "My girlfriend was murdered last year. Tara was everything good in my life. We had just made up after a pretty bad fight, and she was shot. I didn't react very well. It wasn't drugs or alcohol, but I got involved in some pretty bad stuff." Willow felt her eyes fill with tears.

"Oh, god. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have brought it up." Will felt terrible, and it showed on his face. He pulled out a handkerchief and handed it to Willow.

"No, it's okay." Willow said, dabbing her eyes. "I'm really getting better. I mean, I'll always love Tara, but it doesn't hurt every time I think about her anymore."

Will gave Willow's hand a squeeze. "We can change the subject if you want, talk about anything you'd like."

They started chatting on lighter topics, and before they new it, a few hours had passed. The talked about everything under the sun, it was wonderful, for both of them, to have someone to really talk to. Sooner than either of them would have liked, they stood in front of a cab, saying good-bye. Willow leaned into Will and brushed her lips gently against his. Will wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. Slowly the kiss deepened. They explored each other's mouths with their tongues, simply enjoying the feeling and taste of one another.

Finally they broke apart.

"Wow," Willow breathed.

"Yeah, I think that sums it up." Will didn't know what else to say.

"I have to see you again."

"Yes." Will agreed.

"Tomorrow night?"

"Yes." Will nodded. "I'll pick you up at your hotel, I'll cook you dinner. Maybe you could stay over." Will couldn't believe he had just said that, it was completely out of character, but there was just something about Willow. He couldn't resist her.

Willow smiled, she couldn't believe she was doing this, it was completely out of character, but there was just something about Will. She couldn't resist him.

"That sounds wonderful. I'll see you tomorrow."

They shared one last quick kiss, and Willow got into the waiting cab. She rested her head against the window. For the first time in quite a while she had a feeling the future was going to be great.


End file.
